


And I Feel Fine

by spacemonkey



Category: Fake News RPF
Genre: Aliens, Apocalypse, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 01:33:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2754611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemonkey/pseuds/spacemonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the end of the world as we know it</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I Feel Fine

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in 2006, and it's crack, pure crack, with a bit of lighthearted Ed nightswimming thrown in. And some inexplicable stapler worshipping going on.

Ed opened the bottle of whisky with one hand, the other making lazy circles in the water. He took a sip, grimaced as it went down, then lifted the bottle in the air, congratulatory style.  
  
“Alcohol and night swimming. It’s a winning combination,” he decided gleefully, then took another sip. After a few minutes of splashing around and drinking, he floated onto his back, looking up at the sky.  
  
A bright light caught his attention and he peered at it. “What is . . .” He frowned, then let his eyes widen. “Oh my  _god_!”  
  
  
***********  
  
Jon let out a laugh. “Oh Homer, how will you get out of this one?”  
  
A crack of lightening pulled his attention from the television. He glanced wearily outside, noticed there were no clouds. “Damn apocalypse,” he muttered and turned back to the TV. Another laugh left his lips a moment later.  
  
“Jon!” Stephen burst in the room, a look of grief and senseless wonder apparent on his face. “Jon! Jon!”  
  
“Stop shouting in my face! Jesus!” Jon growled, not looking up. Homer was getting attacked by a bear, he couldn’t miss this.  
  
Stephen shoved at his arm a few times. “Jon! Jon!”  
  
“Oh for fuck . . .” Jon finally turned to Stephen. “What?”  
  
“Ed’s dead!”  
  
Jon stared blankly at Stephen for a long time, before allowing his mouth to fall open. “D-Dead?”  
  
Stephen nodded frantically. “He was found soaked with alcohol near Hawaii.”  
  
“But he was in New York just last night!”  
  
Stephen looked around the room, as if checking for any eavesdroppers, before leaning in to whisper in Jon’s ear. “They say he was probed.”  
  
“Probed? As in-”  
  
“Aliens,” Stephen said with a nod.   
  
Jon blinked slowly. “Ed’s tragically died and you’re blaming aliens?”  
  
“We have to blame someone!” Stephen slammed his hand down on the couch. “Jon, the aliens killed him!”  
  
Jon ran his hand through his hair, let out a heavy sigh. “You don’t think that maybe, just maybe, his repeated habits of night swimming and alcohol finally caught up with him?”  
  
Rob rushed into the room before Stephen could say anything, look of horror on his face. “Turn on the TV! Turn it on!”  
  
“Okay!” Jon was more than happy to go back to The Simpsons, if it meant getting out of the conversation with Stephen. Or, any other time. Jon really liked The Simpsons.  
  
He was dismayed to find a news flash instead, the news reporter looking more than a little frazzled. “What’s going-”  
  
“Australia is gone. Japan is on its way. We’re next,” Rob said in a low voice. Stephen gave him a look of pure horror.  
  
Jon frowned. “Gone? As in . . .”  
  
Rob gave Jon a long look, before shaking his head sadly. “The aliens, Jon.” He looked back at the TV, stricken. “Those drunken bastards never even had a chance.”  
  
“The Japanese?” Jon was feeling more than a little confused.  
  
“The Aussies, Jon. They probably wouldn’t have even known what hit them.” Rob let out a heavy sigh. “We’re next,” he repeated.  
  
Stephen laid a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “I told you it was the aliens,” he whispered.  
  
Jon was horrified. “Anal probe?”  
  
“And so much more.”  
  
“Oh my god.”  
  
**********  
  
People were in a panic, running around screaming, crying, rocking in the corner, some even taking staplers from their offices. Jon could understand the crying and rocking, maybe even the stapler thing, but he had never known why people screamed hysterically. It felt very 1930’s to him.  
  
They were going to die. His gut was telling him that, telling him what they had to know. How could they fight the aliens? How?  
  
“Jon!” One of the interns, Shelly, Jon guessed, was waving a hand at him as she rushed through the crowd. “Jon, here! You take mine!” She handed him her stapler, look of hope in her eyes.   
  
Jon laid a hand on her arm, handed her back the stapler. “You keep it. You might need it.”  
  
She nodded, wide eyed, and before he could blink, she had disappeared into the crowd again. He shook his head. Staplers? Really, what the fuck?  
  
“You have to do something, Jon.” Stephen appeared out of nowhere, serene look on his face. “You’re the boss.”  
  
“You want me to repent?”  
  
“You’re Jewish, it would take too long.” Stephen pushed him forward forcefully. “Go.”  
  
“But-”  
  
“Go!”  
  
“Okay, people!” Jon clapped his hands together, once, twice, and everybody stopped in their tracks; looked at him. “Wow, I didn’t think that would actually work.” He took a deep breath, looking at the sea of faces. “Okay, listen, I know we’re all frightened . . . and horny,” he joked. If they had been in a sitcom, there would have been crickets chirping, maybe even a tumbleweed rolling by. All he got was an awkward cough.   
  
“Anyway, heres the thing: I don’t know what to do, so take your . . . staplers, and go home to your families, see them one last time.”  
  
Another awkward cough came, followed by Stephen smacking his shoulder. “That wasn’t very inspiring!”  
  
“I’m pessimistic by nature, what do you want from me?” Jon hissed at him. Stephen shrugged.  
  
“They're here!” A voice squeaked from the back of the room.   
  
Jon stood on his toes. “Rob?”  
  
“Yeah!”  
  
“What did you say?”  
  
“They’re here!” Rob shouted again.  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Aliens!”  
  
“Oh!”   
  
The group burst into a fit of panic once more, people clutching their stapler’s as they ran by screaming. Jon looked at Stephen with a furrowed brow. “What the hell is with the staplers?”  
  
“They’re symbolic,” Stephen explained.  
  
Jon chewed the inside of his cheek. “Uh huh.”  
  
“So . . . looks like we’re going to die?” Stephen said after a long pause.  
  
Jon nodded. “Yup.” He let out a sigh, looked back at Stephen. “So . . .”  
  
“One last romp in your office?”   
  
Jon grinned. “You read my mind.”


End file.
